


save your breath

by pinkgrapefruit



Series: coughing up petals [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 12:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18410810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkgrapefruit/pseuds/pinkgrapefruit
Summary: This ocean I am stuck in, this whirlpool I cannot escape, it’s just a storm in a teacup. The hurricane’s coming. We both know it will wipe us out.





	save your breath

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! I am back because all I ever do is write nowadays. I wrote this on a whim at 10 pm last night after a prompt on Artificial Queens. Thanks to Thorpe for beta-ing me and being an awesome human as per usual. It's written to 'save your breath' by Adore Delano and is from Brookes POV. As always, all work is my own and although this is based on real people, both the characters and the story are my own interpretation and therefore fully fabricated. Enjoy! x

_ When you think about me _

_ Do you remember when _

_ You were all about me _

_ Or am I just a myth? _

 

Do you remember the way our hands intertwined? The fluttering of black on red that day by the tree. Do you remember that, baby? Because I do. I remember it like yesterday, my mind filled with clouds, and apple cider, and you. Because you feel like coming home and nothing will ever beat that feeling. You could give me a handjob and make it feel like a pas de deux. All graceful and elegant and shit. You could buy me a thousand purses and pumps and a  _ goddamn _ planet but I would love nothing more than I love you. Because I love you like a cat loves catnip or some other analogy that I don't have the heart to make up. You took my heart and crushed it under my own pointe shoes. You placed it prettily on the floor and watched me pirouette my way over it. If God is a woman, she is cruel and unwavering in her choices. 

 

Do you remember that time by the beach? The one in Florida after I met the Mateos. That's where I realised I love you. Not in some club in wherever the hell we were. Not even in Toronto when I watched you look, with so much  _ joy _ , at the place I'm from. No, I realised it on a beach at 2 am when my mind was so addled by sleep that the tide was covering half my legs. When you pulled me up and made me dance with you under the stars of Tampa. Your head was heavy on my chest and your breath was warm. It smelled like Panda Express and cider and your hair of cologne and prop glitter. And then I took you to my hometown,  _ God. _ We stood at the top of Church near Old Toronto and you wanted to see my old haunts so badly so I let you pull me into The Drink. Later you tugged me back out and demanded I showed you all of the touristy destinations so we hired bikes and cycled them all. We shared long, languid kisses in front of each and everyone and savoured each other like it would be our last hurrah. 

 

Do you remember the way I took you in my arms that night? How I made you scream? How you told me you loved me in between sweaty sheets and heavy breaths. I remember the way that undeniable feeling of home swelled in me like a symphony. Like the violin solo reaching its crescendo and when we crashed back down like waves against the shore - the pitch, fuzzy in my ears. You are fortissimo, brash and loud but you can be kind when needed. Like pauses in the bar. I am mezzo-piano. I am moderately soft and though we both know I can get loud, I do not broadcast that. That is not the world's secret to know. That is not yours to share.

 

_ I loved you hardest _

_ Happy, just loving you _

_ And to be honest _

_ Sometimes I think I still do _

 

It would take a lot for me to say that I do not love you. But the thing about love is that it is rarely enough. Love is never the sole emotion, it is always supported by others. You can have love and jealousy, love and rage, love and pure, unadulterated joy. But you never just have love. The same way that the organ supports the strings section, all other emotions support love because it is fickle. It is easy to break. It is easy to detune, destring, derail. Just like we were. And yet I love you. I love you like I am going to break if I stop. Like I will cease to exist. Loving you feels like I am constantly in the eye of the storm. The winds are swelling around me like the strings and you are the conductor. You are the maker of chaos and the ruler of the winds.  The king of my goddamn world. When did I forget that you’ve always been the king of the world? 

 

I think about you a lot. It's mostly just me wondering if you’re thinking about me too because this feels like I'm drowning and I don't think you can save me anymore. I need to learn to swim or find a place, high and dry, to smoke a cigarette or two before I go down. It's awfully hard to keep your head above the water when you can't remember why you’re there. This ocean I am stuck in, this whirlpool I cannot escape, it’s just a storm in a teacup. The hurricane’s coming. We both know it will wipe us out. 

 

I never thought leaving would be a precautionary measure. I didn't realise that I needed caution till I met you but now I see that I was wrong. Because leaving is the biggest precaution one can make when trying not to get hurt and  _ Lord knows  _ I am the master of that. You don't spend your life as a dancer without knowing how to avoid injury. You learn how to stretch. How to feel when a muscle is straining and how to differentiate between good and bad pain. I am the master of my body, I am the master of my soul. I am not the master of you. I know when my hip is about to go out, how long I can hold an arabesque to still move my knees. I have learned when to take off my pointe shoes and when to say enough is enough. Why can I never do that with  _ you _ ?

 

_ You're losing oxygen _

_ And I can't find the words _

 

You’re a fire that’s losing oxygen. A powder keg about to explode. You're running out of fuel but you’ll blow up at any second and it's  _ dangerous _ but I’ve always liked  _ dangerous. _ I've  never feared getting burned. As I said, I know how to avoid getting hurt. It’s funny how we worked, how we would work if we weren't overtired and underpaid and running on the fumes of tomorrows and good tequila. I’ve always been more of a vodka kinda gal but maybe that's the Canadian in me. If you were here you’d make a joke a about having Canadian in me and we’d laugh and then I’d call you a hypocrite. One of us has had Canadian in him more often than the other. 

 

I remember the way you burned on Drag Race. The way the fire within you would roar rather than just flicker. Because alcohol fuels fire, it doesn't destroy it the same way that loneliness does. I’ve never been a fragile person but watching us again kills me a little. I long for the days when we weren't so busy. When we had no reason not to be together. I don't know where you found the words to impose this ban on  _ us.  _ I certainly don't have any. We made our bed and now we have to lie in it but this time the bed is a single and there are two of us. Because this game shrunk the bed and I want to get out. Twitter is not a substitute for texting. It is not a substitute for love and affection and the physical closeness I crave.

 

This game we play is orchestrated but my feelings are not. Your fire does not control what I do or who I see or how they end up in my bed. I tell myself this in the hope that I will learn. In the hope that it will teach me not to fall in love again. Because you cannot play the violin to the tune of my soul. No drumbeat can replicate the beating of my heart when I held you in my arms and whispered love into your hair. I am someone else when I am in love, and you broke that.

 

_ The air is getting thin _

_ Silence is all we heard _

 

How’s the air up on your high horse? How do you feel in this atmosphere you’ve made? Are you jealous of me because I didn't have to make the call? I was too naive to see that we couldn't stay together. I wasn’t strong enough to fight the tide. The crashing waves of saltwater that burned all of my cuts. Every scar filled with salty tears and every painful thing I’ve felt exacerbated by the cool flow of the ocean. If you read this you’d tell me that I sounded like a Pisces and I’d be inclined to agree if that wasn’t so Libra of you. You'd say it like it’s a compliment but the context just screams insult. Isn't that just adding insult to injury here?

 

We only talk online but really all that means is we haven't spoken in months and you know how I was talking about an orchestra? Well, this newfound silence is deafening. It's the long pause after that crash of the symbols. The day after the rain. It's the quiet of an early morning but without you in bed with me and  _ fuck _ . It hurts, baby. Your forte was always loud but I miss it now. I’ve never regretted being quiet before but I'm aching for the noise that you took away. My life has been one constant note. It never wavered until  _ you _ . Then you came crashing in and it became a vibrato, technical and beautiful. And then you left. And it feels empty without the melodies. The harmonies we made were visible from the very beginning on Drag Race and whether we thank the editing for that or not, we both know it's true. We were opposites in public but two peas in a pod alone. 

 

When we would lay in bed, your head on my chest, my fingers grazing your tattoo and your hand in my hair: that's the only place you were quiet. The air was heavy with love and familiarity and it pooled in my stomach like summer and home. It trickled down your neck like hot chocolate, soft and smooth and filled your lungs with flowers till you coughed up petals onto our bed. Red carnations for love.  Bouvardia doubles for life. Sweet pea for departure after a good time. Now silence looks like sweet peas and sex hair and I can’t live my life in that.

 

_ You know our last goodbye _

_ Keeps playing through my mind like _

_ Ah ah ah _

 

My mind feels like a compilation video these days. It's taken every good moment we had and made a supercut. One day I will take it and splice it, titling it  _ happiness.mov.  _ I will watch it until I am old and haggard. When my legs are feeble and I’ve lost all muscle tone in my body. When life has drained from my eyes and my feet no longer support me en pointe. That is when I will let go of these memories. You see, in a way, they made me who I am. Every kiss you gave me, slow and soft under harsh club lights. Every green room I waited in for you and vice versa. Every dollar of tip money I’ve thrown at you - that's part of me now. You are part of me and I will carry you in my heart like a scarlet letter. 

 

The last time we said goodbye felt more like a hello. It was warm and quick but the way you smiled isn't something you can fake. Neither of us can act but we are clever enough to play pretend when we need to. We are too young to know better but too old to be fooled. I was not fooled. You directed Courtney with ease, told her what to do like the producers did back then and when I looked at you, you whispered something. So soft, I didn't hear what it was, but I got lost in you all the same. You still smelt like apple cider and dreams and when you placed your small hands on my waist - when you pulled me in as you did in Florida and in Toronto; well, I could have sworn I heard angels sing. I felt you smile into me and I know you welcomed the feeling too. 

 

I am grateful to Courtney and Nina for suggesting we did that. I am grateful for the video that I have watched a million times. It hurts less than watching Drag Race. Maybe that's because I know that this wasn't in our honeymoon phase. Now we have a grip on reality and we aren't just letting the waves pull us together. We’ve swum through the riptide and I can't say that we’re stronger but we’re certainly still here. 

 

I often let my mind wander when I am in the depths of despair. I question whether you have watched the video like I have. Whether you will view it with the same sliver of hope and painfully real emotion. I wonder if it stirs your heart and messes with your head to see two people look so in love. If it breaks you down a little to see  _ us _ look so in love. We may be too old to be fooled but we aren't near old enough to be blind. Nina made me promise when she sent that video, promise not to go mad. Her warning was belated. All I smell is sweet peas and apple cider and Tampa Bay - and I wouldn't change it for the world.

 

_ Love was already dead _

 

Did you know, red carnations are common in funeral bouquets? They say the word ‘carnation’ comes from the Latin,  _ God in the flesh,  _ and in that case, I suppose I understand how they link to you. If you are a carnation, red like anger and love. I am a peony. Bashful and compassionate and completely indignant. I am angry because this is an injustice, I am indignant to the world and to you. I  love  you bashfully and with my whole self. I love you with compassion and joy and I long for the good health and prosperity that peonies symbolise. If God is a woman, let her have the heart to see that we cannot be over just yet, I am not content with being a peony. I wish to be a daffodil of new hopes and beginnings. I would like you to join me in them.

 

_ Love was already dead _

 

What do oceans and orchestras and flowers and fires and God have in common? You. You are the fire that burns in the dead of winter, keeping the rest of the world warm even if it means you burn out. Too selfless to save yourself, too selfish to let me burn out with you. You are the ocean that swallows me whole and deposits me back on the shore when I swim too far out. You are the conductor of symphonies that all bear my name. Every piece is personal and swells and dips like the North Sea. You play gracefully although your instrument isn't typical for a twenty-something drag queen. You are the red carnation to my peony even though I pray that one day we will both be daffodils in March, swaying in the gentle breeze with the early sun on our backs. You are the controller of my fate, the author of my destiny. With every breath I take in, I exhale blue roses. _ I can't have you but I can't stop thinking about you.  _ That sounds about right.

 

_ Love was already dead _

_ So save your breath _

 

Our love isn't dead, but you can't just talk your way out of this one, babe. 

Do you remember us? 

Because I do. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed going back to this format (anyone who's read some of my older works knows this is my kinda writing). Anywho, I really hope you enjoyed it! if you've got any feedback/ constructive criticism you can catch me in the comments here or over on tumblr @pink-grapefruit-cafe. I love you all and your feedback truly motivates me to keep writing xx


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